Demolition lovers
by twist-the-line
Summary: The lines between Hate and Love cannot be determined. One cannot exist without the other. Harry Draco Angst Suicide.


**Title: **Demolition Lovers

**Summary: ** The lines between Hate and Love cannot be determined. One cannot exist without the other.  
**Rating: **Ummm, M, I guess

**Disclaimer: **Obviously I do not own Harry or Draco, Im just borrowing them. Lyrics are from _Demolition Lovers _by My Chemical Romance, and one line of the fic has been borrowed from _The Great Gatsby _by F Scott Fitzgerald. 10 house points to who picks it. This is my first published fic written in a hell depressing mood, hope you all can get off on my reality.  
Dedicated to Mel, my partner in crime.

As lead rains, will pass on through our phantoms  
Forever, forever  
Like scarecrows that fuel this flame we're burning  
Forever, and ever  
Know how much I want to show you you're the only one  
Like a bed of roses there's a dozen reasons in this gun

_For one as perfect as you I can hold no reality, nothing or worth or value to give you. Selfish, selfish desires compel me to stay although just the act of my love will undoubtedly kill us both………… _

The unreality of the perfection that was Draco Malfoy hit Harry like the Hogwarts Express. Propped up by an elbow the raven haired boy stared at the other boy as he slept, letting memories of the past month wash over him, filling his mind.

It had always been Draco. Draco Fucking Malfoy, infecting Harry's mind and poisoning his soul. The arrogant prat that had tormented him over the years, the Death Eater's son, his arch nemesis had plundered Harry's thoughts, ceaselessly and without the slightest regard for what damage he could cause. The past few years of rivalry fuelled Harry. Hating Voldemort was so very cliché, hating Draco was his _survival_, the thing that his own sanity depended on. The fallback.

Everything could change. Ron and Hermione could fade away to the back of his mind, wrapped in their own affairs, Dumbledore, that pillar of strength, could fall but Harry and Draco would always have hate. It was their reality.

What were they to do now that that had changed? Draco always had his own inner strength, that wall of arrogance he could conjure at a moment notice, but was Harry able to have, if not hate?

Not love, surely. The cared, the kissed and they fucked, but it couldn't be love. The Boy Who Lived, saviour of the wizarding world and icon to all couldn't fall in love with the one person who represented all for whom he held unaffected scorn. It was his duty to hate Draco, his _right._

Draco had killed, God knows, he had killed. Even now, the dark mark stood out in startling contrast to the smooth alabaster skin as a harsh and ugly reminder of the principles he fought for. No doubt about it, Draco was a murderer. Harry knew this, even as things between them has begun to change, Harry knew that Draco _himself _ would not change, and that to love him would be to love death itself. There would be no hope for tomorrow, not even a fucking _dream_ of happiness in their future. Just blood, destruction and pain.

But no hate.

No love, either. Harry had seen the antics of those who proclaimed their love, the hysterics, betrayal. They whispered breathless promises, brushed the hair out of each other's eyes and shared such moments of tenderness that made the idea of love all the more ridiculous when they finally parted. If that was love, what hope was there for happiness?

Harry lay back down, feeling Draco's warmth press against his side, he closed his eyes and smiled softly, reaching out……………………….

_One Hour Later_

Draco knew that it was doomed, from the first touch, the first moment he saw Harry Potter as something other than the enemy, a flaw in the Dark Lord's plan. Something had changed in Harry, after that first encounter, pressed up against a cold brick wall in one of Knockturn Alley's most dodgy crevices. Harry's eyes-always so green and flaming-were…..well, _dead_. Draco could think of no other way to describe them. No longer flashing with passion, defiance or anger. Just quietly watching Draco as they stood staring at eachother.

How was Draco to know that Hating him was the one thing that kept Harry grounded? The bitter irony was not lost on him as he reached out to softly touch the pale cheek, letting his fingers trace lines down Harry's face. He smiled slightly at the messy black hair and crooked glasses that adorned Harry's pointed face, nearly as aristocratic as his own, he noted. He rested a palm of Harry's chest and spoke, although he was sure the other would not hear him

"I don't think it ever was hate, Harry. Perhaps we only thought it was. Whatever we have, it was defining. Do you know that?"

Draco paused, carefully brushing back a strand of the other boy's jet black hair.

"There's so much I have to tell you. That day, in Knockturn Alley, when everything changed, I saw the way you looked at me. You were disgusted with me, with everything I stand for. You spend your entire life fighting against the forces of The Dark Lord and end up fucking one of his minions in a dirty alley."

Stopping to draw a breath, Draco rested his head against Harry's chest.

"Then _this_ started, whatever itis, and I couldn't help the way I felt. Things changed for me, but you still looked at me from the same eyes, and I've never seen you smile in my direction, not once. At least if you did, I'd know that you felt _something _for me, some form of lo……

Draco drifted off, sighing slightly.

_One Hour Previous_

……….to the bedside table, his trembling fingers grasping the smooth, worn handle of his wand. There was no hesitation as he placed his it to his temple. If he were to love Death, he would embrace it in all its forms.

_Avada Kedavra_


End file.
